Draco Malfoy and the Significant Rampaging Hedge
by nun outfits are cool
Summary: Draco is assigned a task by the Dark Lord Voldemort...
1. The Graveyard

**The Graveyard**

It was the middle of the night. The towering graves were illuminated by silver moonlight, although no stars shone in the jet-black sky. A cloaked figure rose from a carved chair, encrusted with fabulous jewels of all shapes and sizes. His followers cowered at his feet, shaking with fear. Very sinister.

Draco Malfoy watched as the Dark Lord stepped away from his tasteless (in Draco's opinion) even verging on Cabaret throne. "I had a lot more respect for him before I met Harry Potter, the boy who _helped_ people… When I am Dark Lord," thought Draco Malfoy, "everything will be decorated with either black or silver. None of this ruby-emerald clash…"

A puppy was sacrificed and the meeting began.

"I have a special task to appoint to you," rasped the Dark Lord, pointing an unattractively scarred bony finger in Draco's direction. The Dark Lord laughed maniacally. His other followers, taking this as their cue to laugh maniacally, laughed maniacally also. The graveyard resounded with maniacal laughter, although the best Draco could manage was a light cackle.

Like all maniacal laughter, it finished abruptly, plunging the graveyard into silence.

"Ahem," coughed the Dark Lord. "Where was I?" he looked around and took a sip of freshly squeezed unicorn blood. "Ah yes. The younger Mr. Malfoy's task," he rasped to himself. "I hope you are listening, Mr. Malfoy, your future career here depends on the success of this task."

Draco looked round at the shaking wrecks that were his parents and thought that maybe accountancy didn't sound so bad after all…

"What is my mission, Master? As my chosen purpose in life is to serve you." Draco backed this up with a charming smile and a flick of his white-blonde hair.

"You will use your geographical closeness to Harry Potter to dispose of him, in whichever manner you see fit. I am bored of his escapalogical antics and would quite like to add his left foot to my collection."

It was strange how few people knew or Lord Voldemort's vast feet collection, and also how the ones who did know about it weren't remotely surprised.

"This is a chance for you to prove your worth, and also for you to start a collection of your own."

Draco Malfoy grinned at the thought of Harry Potter's nose floating in a jar. "Master," he drawled, "nothing would give me greater pleasure than finishing off the bespectacled ninny that is Harry Potter. Should I fail you, may my buttocks drop off or catch fire, may dragon fire frazzle my beautific locks. May I…"

His speech lasted for about five minutes more before the Dark Lord cut him off. He had always tried to encourage young speech-making talent and Draco Malfoy had always shown exceptional promise, although his speeches did tend to refer to his appearance more often than the Dark Lord would have liked…

"Very well. Now on to other business…"

As night faded into morning, the meeting ended and each Death Eater was sent home with a vial of puppy blood and his/her own thoughts. Draco Malfoy was ecstatic with the ease of his first task. Potter was as good as skewered on a long pointy stick.


	2. The Piano

A magnificent grand piano fell from the top of the archway into the Great Hall. Several first years screamed into their cereal, the new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher raised one eyebrow. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley looked up from their plates.

"You know," said Ron, "I think I've reached a point where nothing at Hogwarts can surprise me."

"What a waste of a good Bechstein Grand" Hermione trilled.

Harry Potter was too busy slyly sneaking looks at Cho Chang to really participate in the conversation. Even though he had been going out with Ginny Weasley for a month, he couldn't help noticing Cho's meaningful glances...

Across the table, Ginny raised one eyebrow at her boyfriend's expression. He looked as if he was about to choke. She knew he was staring at Cho Chang, and was surprised by how little she cared. He was getting more boring than she thought possible, and now would be the perfect time to finish whatever they had with as little harm to each other as was possible. She could branch out; there were decent boys in other houses as well after all...

Draco Malfoy swept past the Gryffindor table with a murderous look spoiling his gorgeous face. If only he wasn't such a jerk, thought Ginny...

After sweeping past the Gryffindor table with his famous aristocratic scowl, Draco slumped into his chair in the Slytherin common room.

"Darn."

Harry Potter's assassination had got off to a bad start... he was sure the piano thing would have worked. But then again, he had forgotten the old (but wise) Malfoy saying; _Always check where the Gryffindors will enter the Great Hall before positioning your piano_. This motto had perplexed him for a while in his youth, but now its shining wisdom shone through. It really is amazing how much foresight his ancestors must have possessed. Actually, come to think about it, it was not surprising at all; of _course_ his ancestors would all have been stand-up fellows. Fair enough, this plan had been a stab in the dark. But he had until the end of the term, after all.

Of course, Potter was not the only thing on his mind. He had a Quidditch match to prepare for, he reminded himself, and he was _not_ going to lose to Hufflepuff. Draco avoided Pansy Parkinson's yearning glances and sauntered off to Snape's office to book a practice.

On his way, he mused that, though his assassination must wait, Harry Potter _was_ still a bit of an issue. Now, having learnt his valuable lesson, he turned to the ancient Malfoy wisdom for guidance and the like. His ancestors were also well versed in the art of gardening, a skill which he had yet to find a use for... He would write to his father about the _Rufulus Oldriges interyesting giyde to bewytchying your horticulture_, which was in their library at home.

Snape had proved to be very receptive to his request that the Gryffindors be thrown off the pitch, and signed an elaborate green slip to show to Madame Hooch. As Draco kicked off, and felt all his Harry Potter related troubles go away, he deliberated on more important (self-oriented) matters, namely, the disappointing lack of amazingly beautiful girls falling at his feet. His sex life had never looked worse, and he was going to have to do something about it. He might even branch out... There _were_ other houses for a reason after all...

**Authors Notes: okay... I know it's short, but I've had a hard time updating. I'll get back to you on the rest if you pretty PLEASE review...**


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